Assumptions
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Gumshoe's spent days trying to work through the problem on his own, but it doesn't much matter how he looks at it; having a crush on Maya Fey seems to be something of a catastrophe regardless of how he turns the situation around." Gumshoe goes to Edgeworth for advice and there are some misunderstandings.


Gumshoe wouldn't be here if he weren't desperate. He's spent days trying to work through the problem on his own, but it doesn't much matter how he looks at it; having a crush on Maya Fey seems to be something of a catastrophe regardless of how he turns the situation around. He should have known the attorney's advice wouldn't work; maybe it's effective in court, sure, but in real life Phoenix Wright seems to be more of a mess than Gumshoe himself. The logical progression, then, is to go to the most pulled-together man the detective knows, even if it takes him a few hours to work up the courage to actually knock on the door to Miles Edgeworth's office.

"Who is it?" The prosecutor's voice is muffled from the barrier of the door, but the edge of irritation is still audible enough that Gumshoe flinches before he pushes the door open.

"It's me, sir."

Edgeworth looks up from his desk without lifting his head, so he's gazing up at Gumshoe past the fall of his hair. "Are you working on a case for me?"

Gumshoe hesitates. "No sir?"

"I see." Edgeworth deliberately pushes the papers in front of him away, leans back in his chair to fix his full attention on the detective. It's terrifying even before he asks "Why _exactly_ are you here, then?" with all the chill disdain that is by now familiar to Gumshoe.

"Well." He hasn't been invited inside but he steps in anyway, shuts the door behind him, clears his throat. "I. I wanted to get some advice."

"On what subject." Edgeworth hasn't blinked, his expression hasn't faltered from that icy stare.

"Uh." Gumshoe looks down at the carpet, rubs his hand against the back of his neck. "Romantic."

There is utterly perfect silence from the other side of the table. Gumshoe doesn't dare look up until Edgeworth speaks; by the time the prosecutor clears his throat his neck is starting to burn from the friction of his hand on it.

"Sit down." The words aren't warm but they're not actively frigid, which is so novel as to drag Gumshoe's attention back up. Edgeworth is leaning sideways, resting his weight against the armrest of his chair instead of perfectly upright as usual; the angle makes him look oddly human, or maybe more like he's making an effort to appear human. It's uncanny, honestly, but Gumshoe steps forward anyway to take the offered chair.

"So I think I'm -" he starts before Edgeworth cuts him off.

"I don't want names," he says. "Just general details. I'd rather not ever know exactly who you're thinking of, understand?" There's a pause; then he lifts his hand to cover his face. "Unless you're here to confess to _me_. If that's the case we should agree to never speak of this again and you should leave."

"Confess?" It takes Gumshoe a moment to catch up to the prosecutor's implication. "Woah pal, that's...I mean, no, no sir, absolutely not."

"Thank god," Edgeworth says from behind his hand.

"Although I guess they're kind of related to you…"

Edgeworth's hand comes down hard on the table. "Not Franziska."

Gumshoe's not sure if that's an order or a plea, and in any case he's already leaning back in his chair from the very idea. "_No_. Not personally related. More...professionally related."

Edgeworth's expression lingers for a moment; then he blinks and relaxes back in his chair and Gumshoe breathes a sigh of relief. "I see. Is your relationship also due to your work?"

"Yes," Gumshoe says quickly, relieved that Edgeworth no longer appears to be ready to strangle him. "We work together on investigations."

"Inter-office relationships are not encouraged," Edgeworth says, keeping his gaze fixed on Gumshoe's face.

The detective grins. "Aw, I know that! It's not someone in the office, don't worry about that."

Edgeworth's forehead creases. "If it's…" His eyes go out-of-focus, his mouth draws into a line as he considers the possibilities. Then he blinks. The crease in his forehead vanishes but his mouth comes open, even his usually pale skin goes whiter as the blood drains from his face, and he glances back at Gumshoe sharply before he lifts a hand to cover his mouth.

"I understand," he says, looking away and down at the tabletop. "Do you - have reason to believe your feelings are reciprocated?" That's warmer, but his voice is shaking very slightly, like he's panicked or afraid of the answer.

"See. That's the problem," Gumshoe sighs, glad that the prosecutor has caught on so quickly. "I haven't told...this person...how I feel."

"I believe that is generally how one begins these sorts of things, _Detective_." Edgeworth's tone makes the title an insult. "Is there a particular reason you are confessing to _me_ rather than to hi-" He draws up short, coughs sharply. "Than to the object of your interest."

"The age difference, mostly." Gumshoe hangs his head, lets his shoulders slump dejectedly. "It's been wearing on me, you know. Isn't it a little inappropriate?"

"It's not _that_ big of a gap," Edgeworth sounds affronted, now. "No more than between yourself and me."

That seems a bit exaggerated, even in the interests of trying to offer moral support, but Gumshoe appreciates the sentiment. When he glances up Edgeworth is biting his lips, looks pale and tense, but the prosecutor attempts a weak smile as the detective meets his gaze.

"Telling...this person how you feel is the best course of action," Edgeworth says, though he sounds a little like he's reading from a script. "You must make your feelings known before you can find out if there's a chance of reciprocation." He clears his throat as his cheeks start to flush red. "And better that everything is out on the table, so everyone knows what their options are." He lifts his chin, very slightly. "You must be prepared to accept that your situation may remain one-sided, if your feelings are not returned or if...the person you are thinking of is already in a relationship with another." He coughs and his blush goes crimson, darker than his jacket. "Or interested in pursuing such."

"I suppose you're right," Gumshoe admits. He pushes himself up from his chair, heaves a sigh. "I don't have a lot of hope, but it's better to be straightforward about these things!"

"Yes." Edgeworth's face is twisting again, a strange combination of emotions playing over his features. He looks a little like he wants to laugh and a little bit angry and a little bit sad, and Gumshoe considers his paycheck and determines that exiting will be the best strategy.

"Well. Thanks, Prosecutor Edgeworth! You've been a big help." He nods, moves to go to the door. "I just hope she'll hear me out, at least."

He's stepping out into the hallway as he speaks, so he doesn't see the way Edgeworth's eyes open wide in shock, doesn't see the prosecutor mouth the word _she?_ like he can't recall how to speak aloud. And there's no one at all to see when Edgeworth falls back in his chair and starts to laugh even before his self-conscious blush has receded.


End file.
